


Reality show

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [15]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: One night, Jaime approaches his roommate and best friend Brienne with a strange request - to participate with him in a couples reality show.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Reality show

**Author's Note:**

> A silly little piece of fluff I couldn't resist.  
> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy it!

“Jaime,” she began, in the exasperated tone she usually used whenever she found no logic in his suggestions, “it’s a reality show.”

Jaime thrust his hands into his pockets to hide them from her. Beads of sweat dotting his forehead was enough. He didn’t want her to notice how awfully nervous he was. “Yup.”

Brienne looked like she was done with bottling up her impatience for later. “For _couples_.”

“Right.” He recalled how Tyrion had tirelessly lectured him to be straightforward, to stride up to her and tell her how he felt about her. _Be a man,_ his brother had often advised him. _Invoke the lion in you. Go get her…_

“But there's one not-exactly-small hitch to this. We are _not_ a couple,” she pointed out just like he'd feared, stressing on the _not_ as if she disapproved of the idea. If it hadn’t been for his determination to let it be known tonight, Jaime would’ve bolted away to the safety of his room, because her expression, her tone, the way she rolled her eyes - her entire body language warned him of her upcoming rejection.

But as long as she stayed away from an outright denial, he still had a chance. As Tyrion would put it, _the game is not lost until the last card is unveiled_. “We could be,” he hopefully proposed. “We could--”

“Act like we’re together, you mean?” she assumed, completely misunderstanding him.

Was he as bad in communication as Tyrion made him out to be? “That’s not what I--”

“There’s no way we can pass off for a couple,” she asserted, a faint shadow of disappointment crossing her face. “You’re so handsome whereas I’m--”

“--smart, sweet and sexy,” he hurriedly rattled off before she could launch a full-blown self-deprecating speech. 

“Stop kidding me,” she dismissed, but her features softened, her tone somewhat receptive now, encouraging him to go on.

“I’m not kidding,” he assured, in all earnestness. He hated it whenever she became over-critical of herself. For gods sakes, the woman was attractive enough to send any hot-blooded guy’s pulse shooting through the roofs. Countless times, just at the sight of her tall frame, her full lips and her perfect breasts, he'd been reduced to seeking solace in a cold shower or jerking himself off within the confines of his bedroom.

But a second’s pondering later, her skeptical self was back. “I still don’t think it’ll work, Jaime. _We_ are not gonna work.”

“Why not? I like you,” he stated without batting an eyelid, _like_ being a severe understatement. “And you like me--”

“Pretending to be a couple isn’t that easy. It's not just liking each other,” she continued resisting. “We’re poles apart, and don’t see eye to eye on most things.”

“But we still get along just fine. For years, we’ve been living under the same roof--”

“You don’t understand,” she cried, slightly agitated. “It’s--it’s complicated.”

He refused to be put off. “In what sense?”

“We’ve got to know every damn bit about each other.” Her cheeks began to take on a pinkish hue. “Intimate details, I mean--”

“I know you like sleeping on the left side of the bed,” he interrupted, the revelation immediately silencing her objection. “I know you're a morning person. I know that you hate roses, love chocolates and absolutely adore smoky fragrances.” Everything about her was at the tip of his tongue, the forefront of his mind. “I know you despise wearing a bra, that you quite like sporting women’s clothes though you’d be reluctant to admit it.”

Eyes widening, her mouth fell open. “How--” 

“Bottom or top doesn’t matter much to you. Either way, to you, it’s the magic of the moment, the chemistry that counts,” he whispered, his remark rewarding him with the rosiest cheeks he’d seen. “I know you’re tough on the outside but a complete softie deep down.” He took slow steps towards her, breaching one little barrier at a time with every sentence he spoke. The next one was no more than a surmise, but his heart thumping like crazy, he decided to take a chance. “And I also happen to know that you’ve been secretly pining for me.” His voice had dipped down, yet it was deep and thick. “Just like I have been aching for you. For months.”

“Jaime,” was all she said, but the tinge of shyness in her voice, the shine in her eyes and the slowly spreading flush of blood down her neck told him he was right.

“What do you want to know about me, wench?” He shot even closer, and she took a step backwards, blushing harder. “That I’ve been thinking about you every single day, wishing we were more than just friends?” Blinking, she retreated another step, and stumbled when she hit the edge of the bed. Throwing an arm around her waist he caught her before she lost her balance. “That I’ve been fantasizing about you night after fucking night?”

“Oh, Jaime,” she breathed again, her lashes fluttering like crazy, the way she said his name, breaking down every wall that stood between them.

“That I want to be with you? To hold you, kiss you, make love to you.” He let his lips hover over hers, dancing tantalisingly close to a kiss. “Every day. Every night.” He let their mouths touch, and a soft sigh, he could feel, her lips parting slightly at the feathery tenderness of the contact. “That I’m hard for you. Aching. Needy,” he croaked, pulling her into a tight embrace, and she melted into him, her breasts pushing into his chest, her arms around his neck. He’d had enough of beating around the bush, of suppressing his desires and concealing his feelings for her, of living a life of pretence, passing off what was in his heart for mere friendship and regard. “That this wasn’t at all about pretending to be a couple,” he confessed, baring every bit of him to her. “I’m ready to share my deepest, most intimate secrets with you. Right here. Right now, if you’re game.” He wasn’t surprised how husky and desperate he sounded, how painfully strained and twitching for a release, his cock was. The wench only had to look at him with her big blue eyes and he’d go nuts, bursting into flames, burning to a cinder from within.

“What secrets?” she demanded, dragging her forefinger down his throat. “How intimate?” Her eyes darkened with arousal, her breath heating up when she hit his Adam's apple. “Instead of just incessantly talking,” she panted, sliding her finger further down to the bare patch of skin on his chest, “why don’t you show me--” 

He took her lips like he’d never kissed a woman before. Deep, wet, hot and furious, like all his bottled-up lust for her had come shooting out of him at this very instant. Gods, he’d been yearning for this for weeks! Months, maybe. But who cared? The only thing that mattered was that her sweet lips were under his, twitching and moving and dancing to his rhythm, no inhibitions to hold her back. She was devouring him like a woman possessed, her tongue exploring his mouth, her hands all over him, her fingers waging a war against his buttons, eager and impatient to get his shirt off. He reached beneath her blouse, craving to feel bare skin, to travel the path of her slender ribs-- 

“ _Fuck!_ ” she softly swore into his mouth, biting his lip when he pinched her nipples. “Fuck, Jaime!”

For many long moments they couldn’t keep their hands, their bodies and mouths off each other, and he froze in the moment, capturing a snapshot of it in his mind, collecting every moan that passed his lips, savouring every gasp, every shudder that left her trembling in his arms. 

“Jaime,” she whispered, when they pulled back with no choice but to breathe again. “About this couples show of yours--”

“There’s no show.” He pushed her on the bed and got in after her, and what followed next was a mad rush to get each other undressed. “It was all a plan Tyrion had cooked up.” He paused to watch her attack his shirt, unbuckle his belt before swooping in to seize her lips again. “To get me to open up to you,” he panted, talking and kissing her and undoing her blouse at the same time. “He got fed up watching me pine for you.” Off now, was her skirt, his jeans, both on the floor. “So he decided it was to be tonight or never.” Their mouths engaging in short bursts of frantic, pleasurable battles, they went on to rip off and cast aside whatever else remained in their way, to get skin onto skin with no bra nor panties or boxers to keep them apart. He took a moment to breathe, to admire the goddess he’d uncovered, the thin trail of sweat trickling down her breast to meet the obstruction of her nipple, tormenting his erection, leaving him with an urge to suck her dry, to taste every inch of her. “It was all just a big fucking excuse to help me come out with the truth, Brienne.”

She lay down on her back and pulled him onto her, her fingers curling around his rock-hard shaft. “Which is…?”

“I think you know, Brienne.” He fixed her with an intense gaze, attempting to tell her with his eyes what his words couldn't express. “And I’m sure it’ll work. _We’ll_ work.”

Sealing her mouth with his, he went down on her, keen to make the most of every moment of this night, to show her how seamlessly they could fit, to leave no trace of doubt that they would _work_.


End file.
